T'werk?
by GaelicSakura
Summary: Trevelyan's heart may belong to Dorian, but Commander Cullen fervently hopes that, being a man, the way is not yet barred to his body. One-shot story. Complete.


T'werk?

Lord Trevelyan dashed up the stone steps that led to his private chambers in Skyhold, and was shocked, to say the least, to find Commander Cullen waiting for him there.

"Cullen?" was all that he could think to say.

"Ah—yes, Inquisitor. You—ah—must be wondering what I'm doing here."

Somewhat distracted by Cullen's appearance, Trevelyan offered a murmured response. "That's an understatement …" He roused himself with a bit of difficulty. "You know, I don't believe I've ever seen you without your armor."

Cullen glanced down the length of his own well-muscled body, clad now in casual attire. "I don't suppose you have. Is that a bad thing?"

Distracted again, for Cullen cut quite a figure in an outfit that showed off his many assets, heretofore unknown to him, Trevelyan merely nodded.

"The reason I am here," Cullen continued, "is that I realize you and Dorian have grown close, but—."

"—I was unaware that men like you paid heed to idle gossip."

"Inquisitor, you misunderstand me."

"I hope, for your sake, that I do."

"As I said, I don't mean to step on the mage's toes, but, being a man, I assumed that although you may have given Dorian your heart, the way to your body is not completely barred."

Trevelyan shook his head.

Cullen sagged. "So that's a no then?"

"I didn't say that. I'm just surprised. I never would've guessed that the commander of my army was in the habit of offering up his services."

"I'm not offering myself up exactly," Cullen said with a frown. "I do expect to get something out of it, too."

"Of course."

Trevelyan strode across the expansive, yet sparsely furnished room, to where Cullen stood near the canopied bed, still unmade.

Cullen took note of the thoroughly rumpled bed and chuckled. "No wonder you always look so bedraggled in the morning. I imagine that the mage's high spirits must spill over into the bedroom, eh?"

"Forgive, me, Commander Rutherford, but I do not kiss and tell."

"So long as you kiss and fuck, that's all that matters to me."

Trevelyan cocked his head to one side. "I assumed you played it straight. At least, that's the word."

"Paying heed to idle gossip? Tsk-tsk, Inquisitor. I'd have thought you above such things."

"Touché."

"And besides, my appetite is far too ravenous to be satisfied by the relative few women available here in our testosterone-laden stronghold."

"So, Cassandra and Josephine both turned you down then?"

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest. "Fuck you …" Trevelyan would have laughed, but Cullen reached out to pull him forward for a kiss. He was thwarted in his efforts, however, by Trevelyan stepping abruptly out of reach. "You haven't changed your mind already?"

"No. But I do wish to make it clear that _I_ do the fucking, without exception."

"I—very well," Cullen said with a bit of irritation. "But you'd better keep your promise when it comes to not playing kiss and tell. If word got out, I'd never hear the end of it."

"I don't know about that. Surely there are worse things to be said about a man than that he'd been buggered by the Herald of Andraste. I should think it quite an honor."

"_Tsk_. No need to be a bitch, Trevelyan. I did come to you, after all."

"I should hope so. You wouldn't expect me to pursue you, would you?" Before Cullen could open his mouth in outrage, Trevelyan added. "My quarters are much nicer."

The men grinned in unison, but their grins soon faded as the business at hand rose to the forefront of their minds. They came together for a violent kiss, during which Trevelyan pulled on a handful of Cullen's blonde hair and yanked his head backward.

The Commander narrowed his eyes and sneered. "I may allow you to fuck me, but it doesn't mean I'm going to go about it willingly. Just remember that."

"Give it all you've got, Cullen. I'd expect no less from you."

They hurriedly shed their clothes. The lateness of the hour meant that the sun no longer lent its much-needed warmth to the Inquisitor's room, always on the cool side due to its elevation. Neither had Cullen taken the liberty of making a fire while he waited for his hoped-for partner to arrive. As a result of their single-minded purpose, they neglected to notice just how dark and cold it had gotten in the room.

"How in Thedas do you manage to sleep here at night? It's as frosty as Vivienne's attitude."

On hands and knees over Cullen, Trevelyan shrugged. "I usually remember to light a fire." He glanced over his shoulder at the soot-covered hearth. "Failing that, Dorian and I just go ahead and rub our own sticks together. But surely you've endured worse hardships, making due in a tent … on a cot … in all kinds of weather … surrounded by creatures of the night."

Cullen noted Trevelyan's shudder. "Careful, my lord Inquisitor, your soft, pampered upbringing is showing."

"I'll show you who's soft," Trevelyan growled.

They tussled as each man attempted to gain the upper hand, Trevelyan's initial claim notwithstanding. In the end, Cullen managed to get Trevelyan in a chokehold as he lay atop him.

"Damn it, Cullen! If you can't adhere to the parameters, then—."

"—Then what?" The Inquisitor may have been strong for his size, but he hadn't spent his entire adult life in armed service. As a result, Cullen had a clear advantage, one that he intended to use to the best of his ability. "You wouldn't deny me a taste, would you?" Trevelyan relaxed underneath him. "That's better." He released his hold and shifted downwards on the bed. "Legs apart, if you please." In response to Trevelyan's backward, skeptical glance he sighed aloud. "I am an honorable man, after all, and I promise to adhere to your parameters: you do the fucking."

Cullen parted Trevelyan's firm buttocks and deftly applied his tongue to his nether regions, eliciting many satisfied groans and sighs. "Mm. I can taste the quality of your pedigree, my lord." He stretched forward and leaned down to whisper into Trevelyan's ear. "Are you certain you wouldn't want me to fuck you? I've had no complaints thus far. I'm said to be quite good, in fact." When Trevelyan hesitated to answer, he spoke with greater determination. "I know you have a great deal riding on your shoulders. The fate of all Thedas rests upon you. Why not allow someone else to take charge for a while?"

"Someone like you?"

"Yes, someone like me. If anyone can do it, you know that I am more than capable. You've given me command of your armies, Trevelyan. Now give me command of you—in bed, I mean. You're still my superior officer."

"Don't forget that."

"Was that a yes?"

Trevelyan uttered a noncommittal grunt.

"You won't be disappointed, my lord. They don't call me Rutting Rutherford for nothing."

After some confusion as to the location of the lubricant—it had fallen onto the floor during a previous session—Cullen at last made ready to show Trevelyan a good time.

"Hold up, Cullen."

"What is it?"

"I did say that I do the fucking, without exception."

"Yes, you did. And I feel honored that you've made one, an exception that is, for me."

"Well …"

A grin overspread Cullen's face. "Ah. I understand. I'll go easy on you. Promise."

"What about the last promise you made to me?"

"Eh?"

"You promised to adhere to my parameters. Look where that got me."

Cullen scanned the length of Trevelyan's body from the back of his head all the way down to his backside. He ran his hand over his back and buttocks, making small, appreciative sounds as he did so. "Yes, I can see where that got you."

"I'm serious, Cullen."

"As am I."

On his knees, Cullen carefully guided the head of his cock into place. As he eased his way inside, he felt Trevelyan stiffen at the intrusion.

"Andraste's tits!"

"Whatever is the matter, my lord?"

"What's the matter is that I have no idea how I let myself be talked into this. I won't be able to walk properly afterward."

"That's the idea," Cullen said, mostly under his breath.

"What was that—?"

Cut off by the sudden forward thrust of his partner, Trevelyan cursed Cullen aloud, but the latter merely laughed and proceeded to fuck him with gusto.

"I'm going to get you for this, Cullen!" Trevelyan cried out as the commander bounced him off his hips again and again. The pain was sharp, but arousing. In time, he reached down to grab hold of his own cock and pumped it in time with Cullen's furious rhythm.

Cullen, meanwhile, couldn't recall a better time than the one he was having now. And what a coup, popping the cherry of the famed Herald of Andraste himself! As if to serve as Commander of the Inquisition wasn't a feat in itself, to finally get inside the pants of such a paragon of virtue as Lord Trevelyan counted as one of the highlights of his entire career. He only hoped that Dorian wasn't a vindictive sort; the man was a mage after all. Who knew what he might do once he found out? Just might set his ass on fire with a bolt of blue lightning in retaliation. Then again, if Dorian was amenable, he might agree to let him have his way with him, too. He was rather a pouf, however; whereas Cullen preferred less flamboyant partners. Now then, Blackwall was no nonsense, a real man's man. But the Grey Warden didn't waver in the least, and truly was as straight as the day is long. Varric had a certain appeal in the form of that chest he exposed for all the world to see, regardless of the cold, but he didn't go in much for dwarves. Solas was just too weird.

Trevelyan could hold back no longer. Seconds before he came, he let go of his erection and glanced down to watch the explosion of semen that spurted forth. He had to admit that the sensations were far more intense, not to mention enjoyable, with Cullen's cock shoved up his ass. The man certainly knew what he was doing. But although it had been nice to allow someone else to take charge, as he'd put it, he couldn't honestly say that he'd ever feel the desire to submit, even to Cullen, again this way in the future.

"Maker!" Cullen breathed. He held onto Trevelyan and shot his seed with a vengeance, grunting and cursing all the while.

Once they had cleaned up and redressed, Cullen took note of Trevelyan's awkward stance. "Hurts that much already, does it?" he said, wincing in sympathy.

"Hurts like the Archdemon," Trevelyan gasped. He turned to make use of a tinderbox in order to light a candle that sat on the night table near the bed. "I'm not going to be able to show my face. Someone's sure to ask me why I'm limping."

"I can make excuses for you at the war table," Cullen offered.

"Damn you. Why did I ever let myself be talked into this?"

"Sorry."

"Oh, yes, I can see that you are."

Cullen stood around uncertainly for a few moments. "I suppose I ought to be going."

"If you dare to mention a single word of this …"

"You have my word as former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall and Commander of the Inquisition."

"If you're trying to impress me, it's not working," Trevelyan smirked. "But there is one thing I'd like to discuss with you before you leave."

"Oh?"

Trevelyan nodded. "You mentioned the war table."

"Yes?"

"And also the fact that both Josephine and Cassandra shot you down."

Cullen scowled. "Yes."

"I only wondered about the reason for that."

"You mean the reason they declined the pleasure of my company?" Again, Trevelyan nodded. "I assume you have a theory then."

"When we are gathered at the war table, you, me, Josephine, and Leiliana, and I issue orders to each of you—."

"—Yes?"

"Each one of you answers in turn with a short, inconsequential phrase in acknowledgment of my having given you an order to carry out. Josephine will say something along the lines of, 'at your service,' and Leiliana favors 'let's see what we have.'"

"What are you getting at Trevelyan?"

"Well, whenever I give you a mission, it sounds as if you're propositioning me."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"You say to me, 'to work?' But it sounds for all of Thedas as if you're saying, 't'werk?' You know, as if you're asking me if you can twerk for me. I swear to Andraste, Cullen, that is what it sounds like."

Cullen stood thunderstruck. When he recovered his wits, a deep blush colored his face. "Good God," he groaned. "No wonder Cassandra looked at me like that."

Trevelyan offered a sympathetic shrug. "It would explain a lot."

"I shall never live this down," Cullen muttered, shaking his head.

Trevelyan clapped him on the shoulder. "I can't show my face either, so at least you won't be alone in your humiliation."

"That's small comfort, Inquisitor."

"One takes what one can get these days, Commander."

"Indeed he does."


End file.
